


Shine

by glimmerglanger



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Set Late in the Clone Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 05:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20848457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimmerglanger/pseuds/glimmerglanger
Summary: Anakin first heard about Shine in the middle of an otherwise boring meeting with the Council, but Anakin hadn’t really been listening. They were fighting a war. He’d just lost his Padawan. Someone else could worry about the drug trade.That had been before Obi-Wan disappeared on a station known for its shady commerce and before Anakin found out the hard way that the place was one big Shine distribution facility.





	Shine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Bad Things Happen Bingo Card, for the space "Tied to a Pole." Hoping to buckle down and finish a bingo in the next few days. I'm presently motivated to finish projects up and I'm gonna take advantage of it while it lasts. 
> 
> I'm not entirely sure how to include a copy of my bingo card, alas.

Anakin first heard about Shine in the middle of an otherwise boring meeting with the Council, his head buzzing from a recent battle with the Separatists and his mind still in the cockpit. Master Windu mentioned something about a drug created _from_ Force users that was, apparently, becoming quite the problem on some Rim worlds, but Anakin hadn’t really been listening.

They were fighting a war. He’d just lost his Padawan. Someone else could worry about the drug trade.

That had been before Obi-Wan disappeared on a station known for its shady commerce and before Anakin found out the hard way that the place was one big Shine distribution facility.

After that, Anakin caught up fast on the basics. Shine, it turned out, let non-Force users connect more deeply with the universe, or some banthashit. Anakin didn’t care very much about what they said it did; it only mattered that to make it, they took a Force user and… processed them somehow.

“We’ve found a few bodies,” said the local law enforcement officer on the station, an overworked Twi’lek, with shadows under her eyes and a habit of cracking her knuckles. She shook her head. “It’s not pretty. And we’re having trouble breaking into the organization. They know my people. They won’t talk to us. It’s making things… difficult.”

Anakin dug his way out of the battering storm of his thoughts at that, frowning at her. “You know where they are?” he demanded.

She shrugged. “We know _roughly_ who some of the big players are. But we don’t have any proof. They’re real careful about how they make their sales, who they approach to buy, it’s--”

“Tell me everything,” Anakin interrupted, because they’d had Obi-Wan for a solid day cycle, and he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin. If they’d done anything to him, Anakin would--

She told him everything. All about the type of people who went in for Shine, all about the cost of the drug, and all about Gujal, who, apparently, ran the majority of the sales on the station. Anakin said, hands clenched into fists, “I think I can help you.”

#

“Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?” Rex asked Anakin for the twenty-seventh time, as he scowled at his reflection. He’d gotten rid of his robes, changing into a dark, exquisitely made suit that he’d blown a tremendous amount of credits to purchase.

What did it matter? It wasn’t like he spent his credits on anything else.

Obi-Wan had been missing for twenty-seven hours. Anakin needed to save him. And all of the other Force-sensitives who had gone missing, of course.

Anakin tugged the suit a little straighter. “Do I look like a Jedi to you?” he asked, pushing his hair back from his face and scowling at the scar through his eyebrow.

“Not really,” Rex said, his arms crossed. “Look, I’m not sure--”

“Good,” Anakin said, not interested in hearing what Rex was or was not sure about. He’d lost--he’d lost too many of his men. And he’d lost Ahsoka. And he’d be Force-damned before he lost Obi-Wan, too, to some kriffing slavers who wanted to-- 

“I’ll be back.”

#

Anakin spent two days on the station, throwing credits around without concern or restraint, quietly paying for all the vices on offer. Waiting. On his second night, as he was leaned back, watching a display that made his gorge rise up his throat and his stomach burn, a humanoid with purple skin and pale blue eyes slid into the seat beside him.

“You look like a man interested in the finer things in life,” the man said, flashing him a blue-tinged smile.

Anakin scowled at him. “Do I?”

“Mm,” the man said. “And I can offer you something finer than anything you’ve seen so far upon our glorious little station.”

Anakin scoffed. “Really?” he asked, arching an eyebrow, hoping. “And what’s that?”

“My friend.” The man leaned a little closer. “Have you heard of Shine?”

#

The man turned out to be Gujal. He never stopped talking for long, happy to cajole Anakin out of the club, through the station, to a non-descript transport tucked away on a distant docking wing, where Anakin would never have found it on his own. Anakin took note of everything. It would be important, later.

“I’m sure I have something that would interest you,” Gujal said, smiling at Anakin, his teeth wide and bluish in his mouth. “In fact, I recently finished processing a new product. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I have _never_ tasted anything finer.” His smile stretched wider. “Of course, it is… priced accordingly.”

Anakin arched an eyebrow, staring down the line of his nose, finding he did not have to feign disgust with this creature. “Credits are no object,” he said. “I’m only interested in the best you have to offer.” He just needed to get inside. Ingratiate himself to Gujal. Find Obi-Wan and the others. Gather evidence. Get they out….

Gujal inclined his head. “Of course,” he said, sweeping down the hall, gesturing for Anakin to follow him past rooms that radiated fear and pain and distress into the Force. Anakin ignored the knot of tension the atmosphere left between his shoulder blades. He had no choice.

He needed to find Obi-Wan, before he worried about anything else. He could make them pay for whatever they’d done to leave such a dark smear across the Force signature of this place later. He just had to be patient, to keep his temper--

That proved incredibly difficult when Gujal punched in a code and opened a door, waving Anakin in and saying, “Look, is it not magnificent?”

_It_ was Obi-Wan. Of course. Gujal had--had attached him to some kind of machine. It rose up behind him as a pole that ran from ceiling to floor. His hands were bound above his head in glowing bands. 

They’d taken his tunics, leaving him with--with a small wrap around his hips. It left him exposed, all his scars, all his freckles visible for whoever wanted to look. There was gooseflesh raised across his skin. Anakin could see him shivering from the doorway.

They’d shaved his beard, as well. It was strange, how young that made him look, his cheeks smooth and pale. Bands cut across the skin, holding a gag in his mouth. His head rested, awkwardly, against one arm, reddish hair falling down into his face.

And they’d inserted a port of some kind into his throat, snugged against his jugular. It shifted a little with each beat of his heart.

Anakin fought down a surge of rage up the back of his neck. How _dare_ they--

But that reaction wasn’t helpful. He’d known, roughly, what to expect. He swallowed, lifting his jaw, and tried to sound unimpressed when he spoke. “_This_ is the best you’ve got? He’s damaged.”

Gujal waved a hand, crossing towards a computer console near Obi-Wan. “Damage done before we came into possession of the product, I assure you. We are very careful with our assets. And it does not change the quality of the Shine in any way.”

Anakin frowned over at him, aiming for bored and impatient. “You _would_ say that.”

Gujal glanced over at him, a slow grin spreading across his wide mouth. “If you want a sample,” he said, “you only have to ask.”

Anakin hadn’t planned to _sample_ anything. To--to participate in this abuse was--sickening. But he couldn’t think of a single excuse to avoid it, not with Gujal grinning at him, a leer in his expression.

He arched an eyebrow, heart racing uncomfortably behind his ribs. “How do I know it isn’t spoiled?”

Gujal tsked. “Let me show you,” he said, adjusting something on the computer console that made Obi-Wan stir. Gujal strolled over, reaching up to check the bonds at Obi-Wan’s wrists, trailing fingers down his arm, over his collarbone, up his throat, to his chin. He lifted Obi-Wan’s chin, gesturing at the port in his neck.

“I’ve set it to fill automatically with one dose,” Gujal said. Obi-Wan twitched again, eyes fluttering open. He attempted to move, and Gujal tightened his grip, fingers pressing hard around Obi-Wan’s jaw. “Once it’s drawn…” He gestured, and Anakin watched a glow fill up the port, drawn directly out of Obi-Wan, “You just take it.”

Gujal bent over, still holding Obi-Wan’s head in place. He did something Anakin could not see, concealed by the bulk of his body, and Obi-Wan jerked, a soft sound escaping around the gag. Anakin dug his fingers up against his palms, fighting down the dark anger rising inside his chest.

“Mm,” Gujal said, leaning back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He dragged a finger across Obi-Wan’s bottom lip, and smiled, lazy and horrible. “I’m telling you, best I’ve ever had. You ready to try?”

Anakin swallowed, twice. It did little to displace the ball of hot rage sitting at the back of his throat. But that anger wouldn’t do him any good right now. Not him, not Obi-Wan, and not any of the other Force-sensitives he could feel in the ship. He needed to get them out, too. He needed more information to give to station security. He needed….

“Why not,” he said, feeling Obi-Wan look at him, eyes wide and dazed, unfocused. There was no flash of recognition across Obi-Wan’s expression. He wasn’t honestly sure if Obi-Wan were that good of an actor or if he were just so far gone…

“You’re not going to regret this,” Gujal said, moving back over to the console after crudely adjusting his pants. Anakin bit his tongue, scowling, and walked stiff-backed across the room. Obi-Wan stared at him, unblinking, eyes all pupils, breathing too fast in and out through his nose.

“I better not,” Anakin said and glanced at the port, one more time. A drop of shimmering liquid clung to it, threatening to drop at any moment. 

“Go on,” Gujal said, “I promise, you’re going to like it.”

Anakin swallowed. It felt… The idea left his stomach tight. But he had little choice. They needed him to convince Gujal he was a legitimate buyer. How else was he going to get access to the rest of the information he needed? What if there were more captives, not just those on the ship, what if…?

Anakin eased forward, avoiding meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze - his eyes so blue and so wide - ducking his head. His nose brushed Obi-Wan’s jaw; he brought his hand up, gripping Obi-Wan’s chin, tilting his head up and to the side, baring his neck. The port shifted with his skin, the drop of liquid falling to land on his collarbone.

Anakin wiped it up with a finger; it felt cool, surprisingly. He _felt_ Gujal watching him, his attention tinged with greed and suspicion. He wondered what his cover personality would do and decided he best raise it to his lips. “Waste not,” he said, before sucking it off his finger, smirking at Gujal.

The liquid _exploded_ on his tongue. It--there were not words for it, only sensations. It spread out through his thoughts and down his throat, warm and sweet and good, like the purest distillation of every pleasurable experience he’d ever had. 

He buried the jolt of shocked surprise down his spine and, working to keep the movement controlled, bent further to seal his lips to the port.

Obi-Wan jerked, just as he had when Gujal drank from him. He made a little hiss of sound - pain - audible even through the gag. Anakin barely noticed. Liquid flooded his mouth, spreading out through him, lighting him up from head to toe.

He felt _alive_ in a way he’d never realized could be possible. Each inch of his skin tingled. He felt his heart beating and air filling up his lungs and the vibrations of sound against his skin. He could taste something delicious in the air and realized, through a pleasurable haze, that it was Obi-Wan’s skin. 

He swallowed, tongue moving against the port, but nothing more flooded into his mouth; he’d been promised _a_ drink, after all. He smothered a groan, shifting closer as his bones lit up from the inside, as the Force curled around him, as the entire universe unfolded, beautiful and serene and gorgeous inside of his skin.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Gujal sounded pleased, amused. His words jerked Anakin back into his head. He stiffened, becoming aware that he’d buried his face against Obi-Wan’s hair, breathing in the smell of him. 

He’d pressed closer, impossibly closer. He flexed his hands, swallowing, where he’d gripped at Obi-Wan’s legs and hitched them up around his waist, letting him push flush against as much of Obi-Wan as possible.

Anakin eased back, just a little, exhaling. Obi-Wan stared at him, eyes all pupil, dazed. His pulse raced in his throat. The gag in his mouth shone wetly. Anakin swallowed, gaze skittering down across his body. “He’s amazing,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Mm,” Gujal said. “I could tell you had good taste. And believe me, a brief taste doesn’t do this asset justice. You’ll find it… very satisfying, in every way.” Anakin felt his hands twitch.

“I’ll take him,” Anakin said, knowing he should not. He needed to work his way into the organization. It was important. But. But he couldn’t _leave_ Obi-Wan there.

He couldn’t let anyone else taste him, touch him, not like this.

Obi-Wan twitched against him, blinking rapidly, as though struggling against the drugs in his mind. But there was no where for him to go, not with his arms stretched above his head, not with Anakin pressed against him, not with Gujal _right there_, saying, “Excellent, I’m sure we can come to an agreeable price.”

Anakin quirked one corner of his mouth up. He shifted forward, brushing his forehead against Obi-Wan’s. It wasn’t difficult, in Obi-Wan’s present state, to send him down, down into dreams and darkness. It would be better for him, not to see what had to happen next, not even if he weren’t really all there.

His eyes fluttered shut as Anakin watched. Anakin lowered his legs, carefully, and turned to Gujal, rolling his head on his neck. “Yes,” he said, reaching for the lightsaber concealed in his jacket. After all, there was more than _one_ way to find the other missing Force-sensitive slaves. He took a step towards Gujal, baring his teeth. “I’m sure we can.”


End file.
